


Study Buddies

by Masterkitty343



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, smut is coming, studying with sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 03:58:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6838195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterkitty343/pseuds/Masterkitty343
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You meet Sam Winchester at a moment of great need. Your essay is due in a few hours and you're totally stuck! Sam helps you with your essay and asks you out for coffee. What could possibly happen next? (I'm gonna be honest here. It's smut. Definitely smut.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Study Buddies

“… bone of a lesser saint… this isn’t making any sense.”

You slam the thick, old book closed on the table in front of you, closing your eyes. Rubbing your throbbing temples, you take a sip of a once hot, now icy cold cup of tea. You’d been trying to write this essay for what seemed like a lifetime, but nothing was coming out. You silently curse yourself for leaving the work this late, knowing you only had yourself to blame.

When you’d chosen to do an elective class on Paganism in the mid 17th Century, you had envisioned a lot more group work and easy assignments. But you had never met a more dull and dreary person than your professor, who for some reason preferred to read overly long essays on the intricacies of rituals than watching group presentations on pagan culture itself.

Which was why you found yourself here, in the library, mere hours before your essay was due, trying to find something, anything on pagan summoning rituals. This essay was worth twenty percent of your grade and you’ll be damned if you have to do any extra work for Professor McBoringpants.

“Excuse me, miss. Are you using these books?” A deep voice cuts through your resentful thoughts like a knife. You look up at the tall man standing next to you. He eyes your pile of research, which must have been about half of the university library’s resources on pagan rituals. 

“I am, actually,” you say defensively. You were damned if you would give up your only chance at passing this godforsaken course. The man looks at you, cocking his head curiously in a way that made his long hair swing around his face. At second glance, you realise that this man must have been one of the most attractive people you had ever seen. And you’d been to Sweden, home of Alexander Skarsgard and Ingrid Bergman. He smiles at you, the skin around his eyes and mouth crinkling in a way that may have looked bad on anyone else, but managed to only enhance the rugged features of his face.

“Do you mind if I just quickly borrow this one for a bit?” he says, reaching for the book you’d just slammed shut. Your hand beats him there and he withdraws, confused. “I’ll give it back, I promise.”

You’d heard that before. How many times had you been willing to lend a book to someone, only to find out it was the most relevant and vital in the entire library? Too many, you answer yourself, remembering the pass you had barely gotten for your last essay.

“Sorry, but I have an essay due in the morning and all these books are very important,” you say, smiling apologetically. He frowns and leans back in his chair.

“I didn’t want to have to do this, but…” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wallet which he flips open to reveal an FBI badge. “This is a matter of life or death, so could you please hand over the book, ma’am?”

You swiftly grab the book and hold it tightly to your chest, moving to your feet.

“What the hell would the FBI want with a book about pagan rituals?” you loudly whisper, not wanting to disturb the people around you. “I’m not failing another essay because some idiot has been painting weird symbols somewhere he shouldn’t.”

You quickly start to pack up your things and move to leave the library. The man grabs you roughly by the upper arm and twists you to face him. You gasp, surprised that he would make an attempt to stop you, and look up into his eyes. They were really pretty eyes. No, y/n, get a hold of yourself! He lets go and you keep looking up at him.

“What’s your essay on?”

You’re stunned by his question. So stunned it takes you a few seconds to respond.

“Pagan summoning rituals,” you reply, pulling the book tighter into your chest.

“How much have you written?” The sudden line of questioning confuses you and you sit on the study table you had previously been working at.

“I’ve done the introduction but I haven’t been able to find any information,” you reply, truthfully. “I need two thousand words.”

“Okay,” he says, sitting in the chair in front of you. “If I help you with your essay, will you let me have the book I need?”

“What do you know about paganism?” you ask, suddenly doubting the man’s FBI status. “Is this some kind of prank? Did Harvey put you up to this?”

He chuckles. “No this isn’t a prank. I don’t know Harvey. I do, however, know a little something about summoning rituals so I’d be happy to help you out. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you say, loosening your grip on the book. This man’s charms were starting to work on you.

“Y/N, I’m Sam,” he says, motioning for you to take the seat next to him. He takes your laptop out of your bag and opens it to see the meagre essay introduction you’d been working on for over three hours. “How about you go grab us some coffee while I read what you’ve already written?”

You nod, standing up slowly, still not quite trusting the shaggy haired man. What’s the worst that can happen? You ask yourself. You hate this class anyway. With renewed vigour, you traipse off to the coffee stand, make two extra hot, extra black cups of liquid energy and walk back to the study nook.

Sam barely looks up at you when you place the coffee in front of him. He’s already started writing your essay for you and, by the looks of it, was about halfway done.

“I thought you said you were only going to help me, not write the whole thing!” you complain, knowing the professor would never believe that you had written the whole thing yourself. He just keeps on typing, fingers flying across the keys, not even looking in any of the books to fact check or find information. 

You take the time to study Sam’s profile. He was very attractive, you’d already acknowledged that. But looking closer you saw a delicateness that you hadn’t seen before. The way his nose tilted up at the end, his furrowed brow, even his full lips were all such unique characteristics that managed to work together to make him all the more pleasing to look at.

With a final click, Sam presses the full stop button and turns to face you, stunning you out of your concentration.

“All done?” you ask, starting to doubt his ability to write an essay that quickly.

“Yep, all finished,” he says, moving to take the book you have in your lap. “Now I’m just going to take this before you find a new way to keep me hostage. Not that I minded being your hostage.” He takes the book, gazing intently into your eyes. He breaks the eye contact long enough to look at the wall clock behind you. “What time did you say your essay was due?”

You turn and look at the clock. Gasping, you realise you only have twenty minutes to print and hand it to your professor before you start to lose marks. “Shit!” you exclaim, grabbing the laptop and moving into full swing panic mode. Sam just chuckles and stands.

“Before I go, y/n,” he says. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” you answer, not really listening and focussing on trying to connect to the right printer.

“Do you want to go get a coffee or something with me some time? I’m in town for a couple of days and you’re probably the most interesting person I’ve met so far.”

“Yeah, sure, sounds great,” you say, hastily writing your number on a scrap of paper and tossing it into Sam’s lap. You pack up your things and start to run to the printer. “Call me whenever!” you shout over your shoulder, laptop in hand. Sam just chuckles, picking up the piece of paper and carefully placing it in his pocket.

“I can’t wait,” he says, opening the first of the pile of books next to him. “Now it’s time to find us a demon.” He starts to read and, as you look back over your shoulder at him, you can see that he is smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! There will be smut in the next chapter so bear with me!


End file.
